Let Death Come Quietly
by Verdanucci DiGardo
Summary: FE7. He was rather foolish, to think he could run away so easily. But, such as it is, he must learn it the hard way- that nobody ever actually dies quietly like they should.
1. A Push in the Wrong Direction

_Author's Notes:_

_So, welcome to my first fanfic. Intimidated by the size? I sure am. How the hell did I get so many words onto one chapter?_

_Well, some people are naturals, but some people are also like me._

_So, now, here's the stuff I gotta do._

_Fire Emblem is copyright property of Nintendo and Intelligent Systems, and no matter how much I wish otherwise, they own it. I don't._

--

He stood in the grueling wind, his fluttering cloak as emerald as the grassy plains that expanded before him endlessly, not a road nor any great signs of civilization for his eye to spy. The sun beat down upon him; he could feel the horrid perspiration weigh him down more than chains ever could.

If only he had not been so naïve as to believe that he was prepared enough- prepared for the illusion that was a peaceful, rolling landscape that would pass by relaxingly long yet in a flash, he might have seen the bandits coming. If only he paid attention more in basic sword training, he might have been able to drive off the stupid buggers. If only he did not forget to bring some food or his trusty waterskin, he might not have been starving at this current moment.

If only he left behind his stupid _Soliloquy thus Spoke_, he would not have been weighted down so by such a useless volume. If he only he could just forget the book's personal worth to himself so he may make the trying journey just a bit easier. But, alas!

Here he was, trudging his feet in thick grass, without any sustenance and, as such, without even a hope in hell. The situation called for him to release any pent up frustrations, if only so he may blow some steam in the attempt to return to rational thinking.

He cursed his mother. He cursed his father. He cursed the sky, cursed the earth, cursed every single animal he could name, and cursed the militant nation of Bern. He cursed Saint Elimine, though he was sure to whisper to no one in particular that if he was granted passage into the better of the two afterlives, he would make sure to take back the last curse in particular. But, above all, he just cursed his own rotten luck.

Of course, he was feeling dizzy from heat and an inability to create even the feeling of subsistence. And traversing the plains of Sacae proved to be no mean feat, especially when one lost his horse and was chased off the main road by a marauding horde of five or so bandits. _Oh yeah, that's right,_ the brown-haired young man suddenly remembered as an afterthought. He cursed the bandits too.

By now, his vision started blurring. His scrawny legs, having somehow found the miraculous strength to carry him thus far, now began to tremble in exhaustion. As his body lurched forward, his wobbling limbs finally gave way and he collapsed, no longer able to sustain the terrible burden of his own body weight.

Various visions entered his head as he lolled off into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

There were two villagers, gossiping at the crossroads of two stony steps in the bungling village.

_"Did you hear-?"_

A tavern was filled with a gamut of clients, ranging from the honest yeoman to the backstabbing merc.

_ "Another one punished for sins he-"_

A man with heavy muscles and an old face turned to face the man.

_ "…a tyrant, no more, no less-"_

There was a young man, perhaps the same age as the wearied traveler, barking at his father.

_ "You cannot trust this-!"_

A man clad in the darkest black a cloak could have, whispered out inaudible commands.

_ "…death…silently…"_

And thus, in the bed of an unnamed inn, the candle brought to light the obscured words of the beaten leather-cover book.

_ "Idealism…dreams…futile…"_

Yellow, cold eyes stared at him, unfeeling, unkind, with no hint of humanity in them. A malicious grin inched its way across the face of a disgustingly pale complexion.

_ "Beware…justice."_

--

"Ergh, my stomach."

The young man woke up to find himself, not in the pit of a wild inferno, but in a soft, feathery bed, resting under a blanket woven from what appeared to be an animal pelt. Well, it was not luxurious in any way, shape, or form, but it was quite comfortable, and so much better for his aching body than scratchy blades of grass.

His stomach, however, now took the opportunity of his rejuvenation to reprimand the poor youth for neglecting his nutrition. A low, deep, mumbling growl (more like a snarl than anything else, really) uttered forth from the traveler's abdomen, and he rubbed it, as if to appease the hungering beast. A giggle was heard in the (what appeared to be) small, rounded hut.

_Wait, a GIGGLE?_ thought the young man to himself. He quickly turned his head and found himself looking into the smiling face of a girl. A pretty girl. A pretty girl with emerald hair twirled into a pony-tail and bright green eyes. _Definitely Sacaen_, thought the fidgeting young man.

"Who are you?" he fiddled with words, calculating, hopefully, a good answer.

"Ah, I am Lyn of the Lorca tribe. I, um, found you unconscious quite a ways from here," she answered to the best of her ability. "May I ask you for your name in turn?"

_Charmingly polite_, the traveler let the thought ring in his head. It was feature quite rare, even among the supposed noble houses in the "more civilized" world outside of Sacae. Bah! When did people forget common courtesy? _Oh wait, that's right, it's when people suddenly get power and become too much of cocky asses for their own good._

"Um, are you alright?" Lyn wore a slightly worried expression.

The traveler realized that he had spent too much time in his inner dialogue and quickly remedied the awkward situation.

"Oh, sorry. Forgive me for my discourtesy. I am called Mark by the few who know me," and Mark was quite pleased that he still knew how to hold decency in a conversation in order to defuse the tension. Unfortunately, the rumble that emanated from his stomach served to spite his small moment of glory. Damn human necessities.

Lyn let out another soft giggle, and seemed happy enough to receive a guest. Mark never quite knew anyone who was so gracious as to receive a stranger with such a warm welcome. Then again, he knew few who would leave a starving man to rot to death.

"Ah, I thought you might have been hungry, so I made this," she opened the lid to a bowl of some sort of steaming porridge. "I was not sure what you preferred, so I made some and added a bit of sugar. I hope it sits well with your-"

"ELIMINE BLESS YOU, YOU ARE MY SAVIOR!" Mark abandoned all thoughts of retaining a serene image and quickly grabbed the bowl of piping hot foodstuffs before plunging into it with a wayward spoon. Lyn was honestly surprised at how ravenous the starved young traveler could be, as his thin build suggested one not inclined to feeding. Mark personally blamed his own metabolism.

After quickly finishing off the meal within a minute, Mark sighed in satisfaction as Lyn set the bowl aside. When she returned to sit in the wooden chair at the bedside, she turned to face the man.

"I can see by your attire that you are a traveler, yes?" At this Mark nodded, and Lyn seemed to hesitate with her words. "Um, would you, if you do not mind, share your story with me?"

At this, the lively, if somewhat weird stranger, fell into a silence and turned his face down, as if suddenly deep in thought. He remained quiet for quite a few minutes. As Lyn was about to say that it was okay he not tell, a scream from outside of the hut was suddenly brought to Lyn's attention.

"What on Elibe was that?" Mark apparently noticed it too, being shaken awake from his reverie.

"Wait here, I'll check." Lyn came in just as quickly as she had left. "Bandits! There are attacking the locals. I must stop them!"

Even before Mark had the chance to say anything, Lyn already grabbed her sword and was rushing out the hut.

"Wait!" Mark called out to her and he struggled to clamor out of bed, only to find himself falling headfirst into the floor. Upon hearing the crash, Lyn ran back in, obvious ruffled and impatient to save the poor victims of a raid. Mark clambered to his feet.

"I want to help you. I still owe for saving me." Mark's face looked determined.

"Well, can you even use a weapon?" Lyn looked Mark up and down- he certainly did not look like much of a fighter.

"Well…not really." Mark's head turned downward, until he seemed to have an idea. "But, I'm quite experienced in warfare. I can help plan out your battle."

"Hm…a strategist by trade? Strange profession, and I don't believe you can be much help against two bandits." Lyn was skeptical.

At this, Mark's face hardened into a solemn stare and he replied," Lyn, I want you to be honest- how much experience do you actually have with that sword?"

Lyn suddenly broke out into a stammer, a display Mark looked upon with much amusement. "W-well, I have e-enough…I think…" Her voice trailed off into mumbles.

Mark walked over to the opening in the hut and gave a hard pat on Lyn's shoulder. "Come on, we've wasted enough time as is. Let's see who we can save."

Lyn nodded, the embarrassment of the previous situation having been replaced by a strong, resolute demeanor, and the two figures stepped into the bright Sacaen sun.

--

"Huh," Mark said aloud.

When he heard Lyn was of the Lorca tribe, he expected a whole slew of huts just like hers outside, and a hoard of laughing, marauding brigands ravaging the tribesmen. From what Mark had read on the plains nomads, most of them kept to their tribes and were devoted to the community. Nomads were well known for the way they devoutly carried a pride for their own tribe, with the only exceptions to this rule being the Sword Saint or criminals deemed harmful to the prosperity of a group.

Mark was fairly certain this girl was neither the master of swords nor a villainess of some sort. Her kindness in feeding him disproved the latter and the way she was holding her blade now (which, based on the small sword experience Mark had and simple reason itself, was not the right way to do it) disproved the former.

Well, Mark would have to ask about the Lorca tribe la-

"Mark, do you have a plan yet?" Lyn interrupted his inner dialogue yet again.

_Oh right, planning…_Mark quickly reassembled his thoughts and looked in front to spy…a single hut just like the one Lyn was in. Really now, who actually lives out here in the plains in the middle of nowhere? Oh, wait, Mark needed to strategize. He saw two bandits standing guard outside, which presumed there was another party of bandits inside the small hut.

"Okay Lyn, we can't just rush into the foray when we don't know enemy numbers, so we're going to have to use the element of stealth."

"And how, pray tell, may we do that?"

Mark's mouth twisted into a wily grin.

--

"Man Trevor, Boss sure has been takin' a long time in dere. Why can't we haves ourselves any fun?" One of the bandit guards looked bored.

"Well Croix, it's because we need to make sure no nosy witness just happens to passerby. Besides, he can have the women, I just want ma' share." The other, slightly more intelligent looking raider answered.

"Hn, well I'll see if'n I can't get me a souvenir when e's done." Croix went back to an erect "guard" position.

"Will do mate." Trevor offered.

Silence passed for a few seconds. Until, of course, Croix felt something smack him in the cheek. Perhaps if he had gotten a decent education, or if he hadn't been in the sun for so long simply trying to find an innocent to torment, the following events would not have happened.

"Hey Trevor, why'd ya hit me?"

"Huh? What're you blabbing about now?" Trevor's face held a genuinely confused look.

"You just hit'n me now, didn't tcha?"

"Now why the hell would I hit you outta the blue like that?"

"I'm asking you that! I mean, I know we's bandits and all, but I'd a though yer mother-"

"Don't talk to me about my mother, you stupid ass!" Apparently, Croix hit a soft spot in Trevor. But of course, less-than-intelligent bandits plus a hot sun equals a severe lack of the use of common sense.

"'Dem's fightin' words!" Croix shouted and he threw punch at Trevor.

"You've got no goddam idea bashtard!" Pretty soon, there was quite a scuffle brewing between the two.

That was, until a young woman in blue tribesman wear slowly approached them while brandishing a clean, hardly used blade. The bickering brigands took no notice of her until it was too late. She was followed closely by her green-cloaked associate who hailed to the bandits.

"Hello gentlemen! Sorry, but we need you to go to sleep for a while."

And, with the flicker of a blade, the two bandits were dead, mortal slashes etched onto their bodies. The foul stench of blood filled the air.

"Um, Lyn? I know we're in a hurry and all, but did you really have to kill them?"

Lyn seemed to take no notice of Mark's words and simply entered into the 'ger,' or so what he had been told the huts were called, and wore a dark expression on her face.

"I hate bandits." Lyn's mumble was audible enough for Mark to pick up.

--

They entered in. There was only one bandit, presumably the leader of this ragtag marauder gang, who had gathered up all the inhabitant's valuables in one place, and he now seemed to be accosting two people in the corner, who Mark placed as a husband and his wife.

"Come on, Batta the Beast demands tribute! Look, if ye gimme yer pretty lil' girl, I'll let ya go alive, and I'll sell her after I'm done wit' her. We all walk away alive. Pretty generous of me, if I do say so myself." This Batta was muscular and wore a headband and crew-cut blonde hair.

"You have our things, just leave my wife out of this, you blackheart!" The black-haired man threw his arms wide in a position to defend said wife, who held onto the edge of his tunic in worry.

"Eh? The lil' man's gonna protect his woman to the end? Haha! Good, I was getting' REAL bored wit' the scenery round here…though it could use some red, ya know?" Batta took the axe that dangled from his belt and raised it high. The couple looked away, waiting for the swing that would end the husband's life.

It never came. When they looked up, they saw the bandit had a sword held to his neck, and he froze in the wake of this new presence. "I thought I told those numbskulls to watch the door…" Batta muttered to himself.

"Sorry, but we took care of them. It's just you now." The couple turned to see their savior.

"Lyn!" The two innocents cried out.

Lyn did not take her eyes off the bandit for a second. The bandit remained in place, but he slowly let a grin creep onto his face. "Alright lass, ya got me. So, whaddya want? Are ya some kinda wannabe knight er some-"

"Are you with the Taliver?" Lyn interrogated in a dangerously calm voice. Mark could not have imagined the girl who fed him sugary porridge was the same girl who was holding a bandit at sword point. And the way the blade was before the fight…Lyn could not have seen so many battles that she was used to killing now.

"Heh, with those devils? Nah, they just a bunch a brainless idiots who don't know how to make a living like bandits should. I mean, come on, they just go destroy'n ever-thing and can't remember to take the crap wit' 'em. And Batta the Beast don't take orders from nobody." He seemed to puff his chest out in pride. Mark noted the use of double negative in the brigand's butchered language. Ah, how far grammar has fallen!

Lyn's expression lightened a little, but only slightly so. Her shimmering green eyes still held a harsh glare in them. "If you are not with the Taliver then leave. Do so, and you may yet still walk away alive."

Batta suddenly laughed. "That's funny…I was about to offer you the same thing!" Quickly, Batta brought his axe around and swung at the swordswoman. Lyn barely blocked the blow before Batta brought his axe into another quick swipe, nicking at Lyn's side.

"Mark, vulnerary! " Lyn cried.

Mark nodded and threw a flask of sorts that held the Elimine cross on it. Lyn downed the whole flask, and the scratch on Lyn quickly healed itself up within a second, leaving not even a scar. Mark scowled at the empty bottle. _Is this dangerous woman really such an amateur?_

"Mark, I don't know if I can win this so…if I fall you must promise me that you will flee."

"Don't ever make a joke like that. Dark humor is up my alley, not yours." Mark turned to look at Lyn. She wore a serious expression on her face. Mark sighed. Obviously, skill-wise, the battle was not in Mark's favor. He scanned the room for anything that could be used as an advantage-

"Mark, promise me!"

"OKAY, ALRIGHT!" Mark screamed. He was tired of having his helpful little monologue interrupted and he needed to concentrate in order to find a way out. Suddenly, his eyes spotted a little mirror in the pile of valuable Batta had collected. His eyes lit up in inspiration and he ambled slowly to the little pile, careful not to alert the two combatants.

--

Lyn rushed at Batta, avoiding the casual axe swing, and arched her sword down to slash Batta's chest. It was a bleeding wound, but Batta did not seem deterred. "Argh, alright lass, if that's the way ya want it!"

He began swinging his axe with more intensity and Lyn had to strain herself to dodge. Eventually, she found an opening and swung her blade up, but Batta moved back, predicting the move, and the blade only made a shallow wound near Batta's shoulder. The bandit grinned and launched his foot into Lyn's stomach, sending her flying into the ground.

As she was picking herself up, she realized that Batta was already on top of her, raising his axe in a grandiose fashion to deal the finishing blow. "Sorry it's come to this missy, but a person's gotta live for another day!"

"And guess what ugly bastard, that person isn't YOU!" cried a defiant voice.

Batta turned his gaze away from Lyn and looked up, only to see Mark, in all his scrawny man glory, standing at the entrance of the ger with a mirror in his hand. Bad choice. Mark adjusted the mirror into the right position, and sun shined its light brighter than ever onto the gleaming object, reflecting a ray that found its target.

"Urg, my eyes!" Batta clenched at his eyes as the light blinded him for a few seconds. It was enough.

Lyn quickly got to her feet and rushed at Batta once more and, in a spectacular flash, zipped past Batta like a flash- a technique famous among the swordsmen of Sacae. A second later, Batta fell to the ground, three incredibly deep slash wounds found their mark on Batta's chest, and he fell to the ground, a bleeding corpse. Lyn shook whatever blood she could off her blade before sheathing it.

When she turned around, she witnessed Mark stomping over to where she was. "I'm sorry Mark, I know I should not have rushed in like-"

"No, you shouldn't have," Mark's displeasure was evident on his features. "Are you really that much of a novice? Did I really just witness the peak of a amateur right in front of me? Are you THAT daft?!"

"But, I did manage to win-" Lyn started.

"Yeah, because I THREW YOU THAT DISTRACTION AT THE LAST MOMENT. If I had not been there, you would have gotten yourself killed, and if that happened, neither I nor this couple would have been able to get out alive!" Mark barked out.

"But, I told you, you must fl-!"

"HAS IT EVER OCCURRED TO YOU THAT I AM STILL RECUPERATING FROM FIVE DAYS OF PURE STARVATION?!!" Mark's voice resounded within the small ger. Lyn turned her face down, like a small child who was getting scolded by their displeased guardians.

Mark calmed down, if only a little. "And one more thing-" He took the empty flask from the floor and shoved it into Lyn's hands. "A vulnerary does not need more than one sip to take care of a light wound. You downed the whole freaking bottle to cure a cut! Lyn, don't be wasteful so you can survive another stray hit! Geez, if you did this all the time during bandit attacks…"

Lyn simply hung her hand and muttered," Sorry…"

Mark simply let out a sigh, and patted her on the shoulder. "Okay, okay, what's done is done. At very least, it served as a lesson." He grabbed her arm and pulled her up into a full standing position. "And that finishing blow was quite spectacular, if I do say so myself."

Lyn let out a small smile, relieved at the return of her newfound friend. "Thank you."

"No problem…oh wait! You guys know each other personally, right?" He turned to the couple in the corner. They gave a slight nod, somewhat put off by the outrage Mark had shown earlier. " Well then, Lyn, I leave you to help them gather their wits." And with that, Mark headed for the flap before entering into the sunlight.

--

Lyn turned to the couple and smiled. "Maurice, Claudia, you are not hurt, are you?"

"Oh no Lyn, it was all thanks to you that we managed to survive this dreadful ordeal!" Claudia exclaimed. Maurice nodded his head in affirmative.

"Indeed Lyn- who knows what might've happened had you not come to save us! We are truly indebted to you."

Lyn shook her head, a little in humbleness, a little in embarrassment. "No, I do not deserve so much praise…besides, it was Mark who helped me to quickly take out the two bandits outside. And I could not have won if he had not pulled out the mirror like he did. He deserves more of the glory."

Maurice and Claudia laughed together. "Ah yes Lyn, that young man did much for us, but it was you who had the courage to step in and strike down the bandit!" Maurice chuckled.

Lyn let a small smile edge onto her face. "Thank you for your kind words, my friends." She bowed her head a little in respect. Suddenly, Claudia was hit with a thought.

"By the way, who was that young man you came in with? Mark, was it? Don't tell me-" Claudia brought her hands to her mouth.

Maurice picked up on the hint and started guffawing. "-you got hitched with a pretty young lad without telling us?" Both Maurice and Claudia wore triumphant grins on their faces.

Lyn began sweating profusely as her face flushed bright red. "N-no! Of course, we're not…no! I just found him unconscious and thought I should help-"

"Yes Lyn, of course, we understand," Claudia smirked as her husband did his best to hold in his laughter. Lyn merely huffed.

"You two are always teasing me like this…" Lyn wore a pout on her face before it quickly turned into a smile. "I'm glad you guys are alright." The couple smiled in return and bid Lyn goodbye as she exited the tent.

--

"Um, Mark?"

"Hmmm?" The green cloaked tactician muttered as a response.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting my pay." Mark rose of the ground to reveal two pouches, taken from the belts of the two dead bandits, and shook them, revealing the existence of many gold coins inside each. Lyn frowned.

"It's not your money, you know."

"It's not theirs either, there's no such thing as a lost-and-found exchange program, and I really could use some money for the journey ahead."

Lyn suddenly dipped her head down in thought. "Ah that's right, you're a traveler. Tell me, how soon are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow, if possible."

"Tomorrow?!" Lyn exclaimed.

The two had not known each other for long, but it had been a while since she had invited a guest to stay in her hut. And, she had grown rather attached to her new friend, who not only offered her interesting conversation, but also was the key in saving her two close friends. And, it did get quite lonely out on the plains.

"Are you sure you should be leaving so soon?" Lyn asked.

"Well…" Mark twisted his arm around, as if testing something. "I think I'll be alright for the road tomorrow. Just show me a map and I'll be well on my way."

"At least you'll stay the night, right?" Lyn waited in anticipation for a response.

Mark toyed with the idea for a while, nodding his head back and forth, before giving an answer. "Sure, I could use some rest after today." A little voice in the back of Lyn's head crowed in victory. "Come, let's head back to yours."

Lyn nodded, her smile plain as day on her features, and she was beginning to follow Mark when suddenly-

"Hey Lyn, if ya think he's a good catch, don't let 'im get away so easily!"

Lyn quickly turned around and saw a grinning Maurice. She fumed at him and raised her fist in frustration before pulling a 180 and watching to see if Mark had heard the embarrassing outburst.

Mark either did not hear Maurice or pretended not to hear Maurice. It was hard to tell with the brown-haired stranger.

--

After a quiet dinner, Mark insisted, seeing as there really was only one bed in the hut and he felt it would be imposing upon his generous host, that he would sleep on the floor, perhaps using one of the many pelts that lain around as a mat of sorts. Lyn was, of course, against the idea, but Mark made a very persuasive argument, saying that he had taken the bed for too long while he lay unconscious. Reluctantly, she gave the floor to Mark.

As the two were about to turn in for bed, Lyn could not help turning to Mark. "Um, Mark. I have a question I must ask you."

Mark's head turned at her sudden start. "Yes?"

"I was wondering, if you wouldn't mind, but…" Lyn suddenly took in a deep breath. "Please let me travel with you!"

Mark raised an eyebrow at the request. "Why, in Elimine's name, do you want to travel with me? I can't say I'm going to any certain destination in particular…"

"Well, it's just that…" Lyn fidgeted for words. "…The battle we had in the afternoon. You know, the one against Batta?" Mark nodded.

"Go on."

Lyn continued," It taught me that I still have so much to learn. I am still, as you said before, a novice in the way of the sword." Then, she looked up, as if deep in thought. "And I am afraid I am a novice in the ways of the rest of the world."

She turned back to look Mark straight into his pale blue eyes. "That is why I must accompany you. I cannot do anything as I am now." Mark laughed at that.

"Lyn, I, personally, would beg to differ. I mean, you are not an expert in the ways of the sword, but not many can boast about having mastered the Sacaen flash!" Mark paused, as if contemplating something briefly, before speaking again. "Besides, I can't take you with me unless I get permission _from your parents_." Mark hoped Lyn wouldn't notice the key emphases.

Suddenly, the air grew tense. Lyn's face hardened, but her eyes started to look a bit watery. _Oh dear_, Mark thought_, probably shouldn't have popped the question_. What he heard indeed shocked him.

"My parents were killed a month ago…" Lyn started. Mark could see she was not done, and gave a small, slight movement of hand to signal her to continue.

"Bandits came down from the mountains of Bern. They…poisoned our water…and rushed into the village…and spared no one." She looked on the edge of tears as she struggled to find words to describe what she saw. "…they spared n-no one…not even women…not even children." Lyn took in a gasp of breath.

If Mark regretted what he had said before, he was REALLY regretting it now.

"I…I tried to help my people. I tried to gather them- I wanted them to flee, together! But…my people would not listen to me…they are old-fashioned. They would not follow a woman." Lyn turned her head downward, and Mark swore he saw a teardrop fall from her face. "…m-my mother was slain by those monsters…F-father put me on a horse…told me to flee…" Lyn took in more gasps, to continue with her painful story.

"I told him to let me stay, with my people- with the proud Lorca! But…he…told me it was too late. I had to save myself…for my people…for my mother…for him." At this point, tears now fell freely from her eyes, and Mark could not think of anything that could possibly comfort her. He simply sat on the floor, cross-legged, silently, watching her grieve over unhappy memory that would never disappear.

In a way, Mark could sympathize.

"I'll never forgive them…I'll never forgive the Taliver, or any bandit on Mother Earth's green landscape! I will avenge them! My people…my family!" Lyn cried out. Mark continued to look upon this display with a perfect mask on, though he honestly wished he did not have to witness it.

Lyn calmed down after a few seconds. "No…no more crying now." She wiped away her tears with her arm and looked up, her eyes now brimming with determination. "No crying. I must get stronger- stronger than anyone around- so strong that I can crush them like twigs beneath hooves. I must!" And now, she turned to Mark. "So please…let me travel with you."

Mark stared at her for a good minute or so, then turned around to avert his eyes. Lyn sighed and let her head lower, downcast as she was.

"We leave at dawn, tomorrow," came the curt reply. Immediately, Lyn cheered up and actually jumped over to Mark, grabbing him by the hands and jerking him up before giving him a warm embrace.

"Thank you so much Mark, I swear you will not regret it!" Lyn cried.

"Yes, yes, that's all well and good, but please…you're crushing me." Lyn quickly released Mark, who began gasping before breath before brushing off himself in an effort to look more collected. Lyn positively beamed, so Mark could not help but crack a smile.

"I will be your peerless warrior, and you shall be my master tactician!" Lyn clenched her hands around an invisible sword and raised it upward, as if signaling to her Father Sky that she would hold to her promise. Mark laughed at the thought- it was not hard to be merry in Lyn's company.

"Alright, alright woman…heh. Okay, we've had our fun for today, now let's hit the sack. I'm tired, and I need my rest if I want to get up tomorrow!" Mark grinned. Lyn smiled back.

"Good night Mark."

"'Night Lyn."

And so, Lyn blew out the candle and the hut fell into darkness...and Mark let his mind wander into the uncharted regions of his own unconscious-

"Mark, what does it mean, 'to hit the sack'?" Lyn interrupted the silence.

Mark smacked his face with his palm in frustration. _Damn, I probably bit off more than I can chew when I said "yes." Elimine help me._

--

_Author's Notes: So yeah, my first fanfic. Can't say it's that fair though, since I spent a hell of a lot of time just coming up with ideas for the tactician, Mark in this case. It was especially hard since there were already so many great interpretations for the tactician. My personal favorites:_

Hammer of Terrascars, _by_ Servant of GOD

Enmity Spares None, _by_ TWH

And Shells, _by_ silentsentinel

_I have to thank these guys for inspiring me to write about the tactician- the character whose demeanor remains completely the creation of the writer/player. Also, I have to say that I hate you guys for being such bloody geniuses with your tacticians. Left me with nothing…not really._

_Also, if anyone recognized Trevor and Croix (which you probably did not, I assume), they were from the Teknikal Diffikulties podcast sub-series, the Account, created and voiced by "Cayenne" Chris Conroy. If anyone wants to listen to him, please do, I love his material. Kudos to him, even if he would not be caught dead reading this._

_Anyway, if you bothered to read this story, thank you, and please leave a review. I'll listen to criticisms and any praise will help boost my dying ego. Thanks again, and I'll see when I can write again. _


	2. Oh Dear, the Exposition!

_And so, the second chapter!_

_Latyon: Thanks for the review! I guess I understand the need for canon, though I personally will be taking quite a few liberties with dialogue (and Mark's story) if you don't mind._

_And now, to the intimidating block of text!_

--

"You know you can't stay with her right?" _called the voice from the darkness. Mark looked up, and saw nothing but a void. The voice simply ringed from all directions, an echo in the emptiness._

_ "I know that, but I at least owe her for saving my life. She wants to see the world, and I should show her," Mark responded. "The world is dangerous though. Imaging that woman surviving out there is-"_

_ A horrid, cackling laughter interrupted a pleasant atmosphere. _"So you're going to protect her from the 'dangers' of the world? Tell me, what does I-R-O-N-Y spell?"_ The voice resumed its devilish laughter- a cacophony of howls. After the laughter died down, the voice continued._

"Tell me, how can you hope to protect her if you're one of the biggest threats to her?" _Mark grimaced._ "You're existence brings danger to all those around you. You're a wanted man, Mark, and you know you're going to get caught like the rat you are eventually. Remember the creed?"

_Mark sighed, almost in acceptance of the shadow's words. "I know my sins weigh heavily on me. However, that is why I must do this- if only to repent. Does Saint Elimine not expound this principle in every single nook and cranny of scripture?"_

_ The voice scoffed. _"Yeah, she does. But be honest, did you actually adhere to those principles in your 'past life?' Did you show the mercy that Saint Elimine bases the whole moral code off of to those who may not have even deserved their fate?" _Mark now looked down in defeat._

_ "No, I didn't."_

_ The voice gave another sardonic chuckle. _"See? What'd I tell ya?- Once a sinner, always a sinner. Screw Elimine's doctrine to the dogs- you're living proof that a man can't be forgiven. I think you even know this, but you still refuse to listen to yourself just because it'll make ya feel all guilty, or regretful, or-"

_"Get to the point, you stupid deity, phantom, or god-damned unconscious dialogue." Mark was tired- he swore he had heard this conversation many times over. "You didn't just randomly appear to spite me; otherwise, you would just give my nightmares and take away my faculty of sleep. So, what is it that you want?"_

_ Now, there was a silence. Then, the voice called out again._ "Now we're getting somewhere in this dump. Tell me, are you afraid of death?" _Mark raised an eyebrow._

_"Where in the name of Elibe did THAT come from?" The voice sighed, made a few tsk-ing noises, and elaborated._

"Come on Mark, don't tell me it hasn't clicked yet? You're a murderer, but you aren't cold-blooded, insane, or hardened- you're just a brat who's got blood on his hands. You know it yourself- and the guilt- the weight of your crimes- they're driving you mad, aren't they? So tell me, why didn't you accept death when you could, and still can now?" _The voice waited for any response at all. When Mark remained silent, the voice continued._

"Think about. 19 years, and where has it got you? I'll tell you what- you're nowhere now. You had brains, you had talent, but you blew it once, you blew it twice, and I'm pretty sure you're going to blow it a third time too. Why not take death? You're always complaining about how crappy life is out there. Why not Mark, why not?"

_Mark shrugged, there was no real way to respond. "Well, I guess I'm just a coward like that." The voice gave a light chuckle._

"Well, at least you're honest enough to say THAT much." _Mark now scanned the darkness around him, searching out the voice, though he knew it would prove fruitless._

_ "So tell me, who are you anyways? Some minor god finding amusement in tormenting me? A ghost of the past, content with causing me psychological pain as vengeance for my crimes? Or are you just my annoying inner dialogue again, telling me to feel guilty like you always do?"_

_ A light laughter was the response. _"I suppose, none of the above, though if I had to make a choice, I'm much closer to the third." _The darkness seemed to be lifting like a fog, revealing a small, wooden room that looked poorly crafted from splintering boards. There was no furniture save for a small bed with a torn mattress. The frame was split in the middle of the bed. Mark looked upon scene in horror, suddenly remembering a rather unhappy episode from his memories. He turned to run away- to escape from this hideous sight._

_ He turned to face himself looking straight at him. Like a mirror, it mimicked the exact details of Mark's face, though the mimic was wearing a familiar black cloak over it…_

_ On the right shoulder of this infernal copy was a silver badge, though it looked as if it had seen much trial as it was beat down and without sheen. It depicted a rather loathsome caricature of a wild beast, its teeth bared into a snarl of sorts._

_ The figure turned to Mark and smiled- not a kind knowing smile or a happy, giddy smile. It smiled as if it were a demon- a bitingly sadistic grin that looked inhuman- the kind of grin that would strike fear into the hearts of even the greatest of men. A voice that was oh so familiar uttered forth from the mimicry's lips._

"I'm your twisted conscience telling you that sooner or later, karma's going to have its justice served, whether it comes before or after you go insane. Keep that thought REAL close to yourself. Now, wake up, and face the day with a _smile_." _Another horrible cackling erupted from the voice before the whole scene began twisting, contorting, and disappearing into nothingness._

--

"What is wrong Mark? You don't appear to have slept too well." Lyn was rather concerned that Mark's eyelids formed bags and that he was yawning now for the THIRD time that day.

Mark rubbed his eyes to remove himself of any materials that condensed in his corneas (as if the sleep wasn't bad enough, Mark now entertained himself with THESE kinds of thoughts). "Hn, bad dream," he replied. Lyn looked at him quizzically.

"What was it about?" She was curious to know. Mark simply waved the question off.

"I can't even remember anymore. All I know is that it wasn't very pleasant and it deprived me of any well-needed rest I should have gotten yesterday." Mark groaned and muttered to himself about his own misfortune.

Lyn felt bad for the brown-haired strategist. "I'm sor-"

Mark raised a hand. "Don't be. You had absolutely nothing to do with giving me a restless sleep and I'm sure this grogginess will disappear eventually. Don't worry about it too much." Lyn remained skeptical.

"If you are sure…" Lyn then ran ahead and, forgetting about their little conversation, smiled and pointed ahead. "Look, it is Bulgar!" Mark walked up the small incline and, indeed, there was the bustling city right ahead. Lyn gave Mark a wide grin and Mark could not help but be cheered up, if only a little.

When the pair reached the city gates, Lyn was so eager, it seemed, to go venturing forth into the hustle and bustle, that Mark actually worried about finances in case Lyn got a bit consumer-happy. He gave a list and some gold and bid her go look for the necessary supplies before looking for personal desires. Lyn was pouting, for some reason. It was honestly quite amusing.

"We have to split up?" Lyn suddenly brought up. Mark nodded.

"We aren't here for sight-seeing- splitting up the load can help us finish our business here quicker." Mark did not quite like crowded cities like Bulgar. Too many people- too many strangers- it all screamed "too many ways to get cheated." Plus, even though he could handle one or two people, he felt positively nauseous being around so many people. _Silence is golden_, Mark thought to himself after remembered having seen those exact words posted in a library. Lyn, however, did not think so.

"Well, we don't actually have anywhere particular to go after this, right? Can we not stay, to enjoy some-"

"You wanted to learn more about the world, right?" Mark pointed out. Lyn nodded, if cautiously so. "Well, I don't think your learning will begin with listening to two gentlemen compare pieces of fruit to physical pleasures." He pointed to a stall behind Lyn. Lyn turned around.

Indeed, there were two men- a merchant and a buyer, debating over something that was apparently quite amusing. Lyn could not help but notice as the merchant brought two melons and put them together in a rather poor attempt to-

Lyn flushed red and felt terrible anger and contempt to the two cheerful conversationalists, thinking to herself, _Mother was right, the nerve of some men!_ She then turned around to reprimand Mark for noticing such a ghastly sight, only to find that Mark disappeared from sight into the crowd. She then looked to the parchment in her hands and looked through the list.

There was a small post-script at the bottom. _P.S.- We will meet here at 12 noon or, if you are not familiar with that terminology, when the sun is highest and brightest in the sky. See you in three hours._ _Be punctual._

Lyn sighed. It was bit disheartening to see that there would be little time for any fun and games, especially since it had been quite some time since Lyn had gotten to be so many people around at once. She wanted to take in more of the experience.

And she was not somewhat depressed that Mark had decided to not accompany her. Nope, not in the slightest. She couldn't care less about the sneaky bugger who ruined her first "worldly" experience and slunk away before she could deal out righteous punishment. Definitely not.

--

Mark left Lyn with gathering weapons and meat. Being a swordswoman, though a novice, Lyn was certainly much more qualified than Mark to purchase the blades she needed. After all, Mark, though he took a basic swordplay class, never had the talent for such weaponry like many others did. His teacher often said It was because Mark did not know how to treat a sword more than a weapon- and Mark could not have agreed more.

Of course, while Mark did find the notion that a swordsman was wedded to his blade as foolish lunacy, he could not deny that true sword-users had a much keener eye to blades than he could ever hope to have. This was exemplified when Mark had to choose between two steel swords and basically picked the shinier. Needless to say, the sword broke down after only six slashes.

The meat, he also left to Lyn, as he was sure that Lyn could tell the good from the bad as the Lorca was famous as a hunting tribe. Certainly, she could tell between fresh delicacy and rotting corpses.

Mark, however, left the fruits and vegetables to himself. Perhaps it was a strange skill to be proud of, but Mark had taken notice of an apparent ability to easily differentiate between the cream of the crop and the old failures that merchants are eager to sell away. Most likely, Mark thought to himself, the skill came from Mark's early childhood, as he remembered that he lived on a dreary old farm. Of course, the story wasn't quite as dainty as that, but Mark never really wanted to reconnect with his inner child in the first place. It would only stay a memory, and a fading one at that.

Barring unpleasant experiences aside, Mark once again triumphed over a crafty merchant and, to the barterer's apparent horror, grabbed an apple from the pile- not from the top, but the middle- and plucked a rather juicy, ripe looking specimen. Of course, the horror part was a tad exaggerated, but still, Mark entertained the thought that, under that mask of smiles and customer satisfaction, there was steaming trader who was cursing the day that a young, green cloaked traveler beat the trader at his own game and swindled a good apple for the same cheap price.

After slaking his thirst to "cheat" the "cheating" merchants, Mark made a quick stop at the library where he purchased two reference books- one for Lycia and one for Etruria, both complete with funny maps- and two volumes detailing the art of strategic planning in both large-scale warfare and small-scale skirmishes- _Tactics Made Simple_ and _The Modern Art: Beauty of Battle_.

And so, finishing the small task of getting any necessary sources of information, Mark made a brief stop to the apothecary to grab some vulneraries at, with a bit of haggling, discount price.

But, noon was approaching quite quickly, as the high sun told him, and Mark had to focus on making it back to Lyn. As he walked down the stone pathway, however, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a sight that caused him to freeze.

There was bakery to his far left.

Now of course, no normal person would look upon a bakery in interest, and Mark should actually have no reason to even be at the bakery. After all, he left the bread to Lyn, and honestly only needed a small loaf to last for a while. But, as most could not even guess about one certain aspect about Mark, they do not realize WHY he left bread-buying to Lyn.

Mark had a devilish sweet tooth.

No, it was not just a fancy for dainty cakes or sugary biscuits- no, it was a craving that Mark often could not bear to resist- an all consuming desire that threatened his very state of mind. Mark even knew it himself- that's why he sent Lyn to get the bread. After all, why give himself the temptation? But, Mark had not anticipated his own alertness at this crucial instant and, almost immediately upon seeing the golden imprints of the word "bakery," his mouth started watering. But of course, seeing as he had a schedule to keep, he obviously walked away from send bread-dispensing store to hold to his word.

Not.

Mark rushed in like a maniac, bought a cinnamon roll wrapped in light paper, ran out, and quickly tore through the sweet Lycian delicacy. Of course, he was careful in taking his time to arrive at the meeting place.

No need for Lyn to happen upon his little peccadillo.

--

"Mark…you tell me to meet here at noon and yet you come late anyways…" Lyn cursed Mark in her head. She actually bothered to come here on time when she could have spent more time looking at the various outfits at that one quaint little stall.

So many exotic pieces of clothing…Lyn could have spent the day away admiring the fine fabrics of foreign lands. But, no, Mark had to tell her to come at noon- to be punctual. It was noon alright- but he hadn't shown up yet. Honestly, she sometimes wished she could-

"Oh my heart! What a dazzling vision of loveliness!" called a cheerful young man's voice.

"Hm?" Lyn turned around to face a man who, like Mark, wore green and had brown hair. However…

The knight in his green armor rode atop a horse and wore his combed, mahogany hair (in contrast to Mark's light brown, unruly locks). He dismounted and approached Lyn with a wave. Lyn frowned. She had no time to be dealing with strangers. But as she turned to walk away…

"Wait, O beauteous one! Would you not favor me with your name? Or better yet…" Lyn noticed that this green-armored knight was now too close for comfort. "…your company?"

Lyn tried to keep on a façade of polite decency. "Where are you from, sir knight, that you speak so freely to a stranger?" Her tone was a bit harder than usual.

Now, the cavalier laughed and puffed out his chest while bending his arms at his waist, attempting a "masculine" pose. "Hah! I thought you'd never ask! I am from Lycia." Now, he shot an arm up and began gesticulating madly as he continued. "I hail from Caelin, home to men of fire!"

Then, he once again sidled up close to Lyn and added, in an undertone,"…and men of _passion_."

Lyn had just about enough. "Should that not be,' home to callow oafs with loose tongues'?" The cavalier's triumph seemed to have been shot down, but he was not out yet.

"Ah, you're lovely even when you're cruel."

Lyn was positively fuming. "I've nothing more to say to you." She walked away briskly before the knight could even put in another "witty" comeback. "Hey, wait-"

"Sain!" barked another young male. "Sain," as the green knight was identified as, was forcibly turned to face another knight, only this one had fiery orange hair and deep crimson armor.

"Kent! My boon companion, how fares the-"

"The mission, Sain? The mission fares well, except I see that you seem to be _refusing_ to partake in it, instead deciding to prioritize idle romance above knightly duties!" Kent responded.

Sain looked sheepish. "But I was merely trying to-?"

"Trying to what? Forget why we were sent all the way from Caelin for an important task give to us by Lord Hausen himself in a woman's bosom?! Do you know what it even means to be a cavalier of Caelin?!"

The two continued to bicker or, more accurately, the red-haired knight continued to reprimand his green-armored partner with biting efficiency as the poor victim tried to endure the onslaught.

Lyn, however, paid no attention to the pair. She was too busy being angry at, well, everything. That boorish young "knight," though he was nothing like the noble saviors of childhood fairy tales, had the nerve to try and win over Lyn like she was some possession meant to take. And then there was Mark, who had the nerve to hold both himself and Lyn accountable for punctuality, only to shirk off his own responsibility doing Elimine knows what. She looked up to Father Sky.

"All men are pigs," she said with a huff.

"I certainly hope you aren't talking about me."

Lyn quickly turned around to meet Mark in all his green-cloaked glory. Immediately, she broke off into a tirade. "Mark, where on Mother Earth did you wander off too? You said be here at noon and you even said 'be punctual,' and here you are now, late! I mean, what could you have possibly-"

Mark did not seem to be listening at all. In fact, he seemed to be more content with scratching at his nose and wearing something along the lines of an amused smirk than actually paying attention to Lyn's frustrations. This, of course, only served to annoy Lyn more. "Are y-"

She began.

"You know, if you really wanted him to go away, you could have done so in a more polite, less attention arousing way." He moved to scratch his head in a sheepish manner.

Lyn looked absolutely horrified. Mark would have handed over three castles to get a portrait. _Priceless_, he thought to himself. Lyn stammered out," W-well, he…but I…" Her lack of words forced a small chuckle out of Mark, which brought Lyn brought back to reality.

"Anyways, Mark, you were so late. Why? If I catch word that you were simply dilly-dallying around town, I swear in the name of Father Sky that I will-" Her words completely stopped when Mark showed her an interesting piece of work.

There was a ring, made of a plain silver-iron alloy. But, in the center of it there lay a red gem, a jewel valued highly by all walks of society in Elibe. It even came with its own neck chain, for those who liked that sort of thing.

She put her hands to her mouth, in order to halt any gasping she might have let out otherwise. "How did you-"

Mark shrugged. "Haggled a bit, offered some useless items, haggled a bit more, got a good deal, and took it," he listed off. Lyn was still agape in shock.

"But, still, why did you-? I mean, it must have still cost so much-"

"I'm telling you, the price wasn't that big of a deal. As for the reason, I'm pretty sure just a minute or two ago you were planning to kill me if I didn't give a good enough reason for being late. So this is my offering for appeasement." Lyn was about to say something when Mark interrupted yet again.

"Women are so strange. You put so much stock in such a flimsy piece of gemstone. Why?- I sometimes wonder. Ah well, what good will it do? I'll never understand those creatures…" Mark then motioned for Lyn to head for the gate.

Lyn fingered the ring a bit longer, looking it over with great interest. Though Mark's sarcasm was as harsh as ever, Lyn sensed the kindness behind his actions- he, after, did give her a gift. She smiled, no longer so angry with her recent, yet quite dear friend.

--

"Hm, there seems to be an blockade at the gate." Mark pointed ahead. Lyn looked puzzled.

"Whatever for?" She turned to the gate. "Ah."

There, standing at the western gates of Bulgar, were the two knights, both dismounted and they seemed to be in a bit of a quarrel (more like a one-sided scolding fest, in Mark's view) and neglected the fact that their horses completely barricaded any entry. Lyn walked up to the two.

"…and furthermore, I would not have to be as severe as I am if you-"

"Um, excuse me?" Lyn asked politely. Mark nodded his head in approval- courtesy was always important in dealing with strangers. "You're horses are blocking the way. Would you mind moving them?"

Sain jumped at the new arrival. "Ah, it is you from before!" Lyn paid him no mind.

Kent complied. "Ah, of course. My apologies madam."

Lyn bowed. "Thank you. At the very least, you seem decent enough." Sain seemed to take great offense at this, though Mark guessed that it was more dramatizations. Kent, however, seemed to be pondering something as he moved his horse aside. Lyn also took notice.

"Excuse me, is there something wrong?" she asked.

Kent shook his head, but continued looking somewhat puzzled. "Pardon me, but have we met before somewhere?" Lyn also took on a quizzical expression.

"What do you mean?"

Sain, however, could not resist interjecting. "Hey, no fair- I saw her first!" Lyn suddenly shot both knights dangerous glares. She huffed and turned her head away from them in contempt.

"It seems there are no decent men among Lycia's knights! I've had enough…Mark, let us be off!" She briskly walked through the gate, paying no attention to the shocked look on Kent's face or the somewhat confused one of Sain. Mark followed behind Lyn, but right as he was about to pass through the gate, he turned to Kent and Sain, giving a shrug, perhaps a message saying "I'm sorry, I have no clue what's going on," and then running to catch Lyn.

It took about thirty seconds for Kent to comprehend what just happened.

"Sain, you lout!" Kent's sudden outburst made Sain jump.

"Huh? What do you mean? I thought you were-"Kent grabbed Sain by the collar.

"I AM NOT YOU." Kent dropped Sain and then proceeded in a low undertone. "Let us tail them, I think she is out…" Kent made a motion at Sain. Sain tried to piece it together.

"So, you mean to say that…" Sain looked at Kent, who nodded in response. "…she's our mission?!"

"Keep your voice down!" Kent hushed. Sain looked at him oddly.

"Are you sure?" Sain asked. Kent shook his head.

"Not 100% certain…" But then Kent added as an afterthought," But she looks just like her." Sain sighed.

"Never thought I'd be chasing a beautiful lass like this…"

--

"Hey Lyn." Mark suddenly put out.

"Hm? What is it Mark?"

"Have you noticed that we're being followed by some unwanted guests?" Mark offered. Lyn turned around.

"Is it those knights from town?" Mark shook his head.

"Well, unless you remember the knights as pudgy, portly, hairy, and stupid looking." Lyn looked behind Mark and saw what he was talking about. At least seven men, all sort of gruff looking men, each with axes strapped in a various way. Lyn grimaced. "These men are out for blood."

Mark sighed. "Batta the Beast was bad enough, and now we have to deal with seven of these freaks. Could the bandits just find someone else to torment?" Lyn shook her head.

"Now's not the time to complain. They approach!"

The brigands leaped off their horses, with mixed results, by they were on their feet in a matter of seconds, axes ready at hand. Their leader stepped forward as he slung his axe over his shoulder, a cocky grin on his face. "How d'ya do travelers? My name be Zugu. And yers?" Mark could hear snickering among the ruffians. He smirked.

"Sorry, we don't offer them to suspicious strangers. Besides, you don't look that smart and you smell funny." The bandit leader laughed. "So, little man thinks he's so tough, now does he? I'll make sure to take care of you real good…"

Mark scoffed. "You know, it's people like you that make me think, what went wrong when the world was created? I'm wondering how any creator could bring themselves to create something as hideous as your face. Your mother must be ashamed." As this "Zugu's" face darkened, Mark's mouth widened into a cheeky grin. Yep, always good to play the "your mother" card.

"Boys, remember. This lad's got a death warrant." His men chuckled among themselves. The bandit leader turned to Lyn.

"Yer name be Lyndis, right?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "Lyndis, what the-?"

Lyn was too quick for the response. "How did you know-?" Mark was baffled. Lyn? Lyndis? What?

Zugu let out a triumphant smirk. "Ah hit the nail on the 'ead, it seems. Shame too, to hafta kill such a pretty lass. Ah well. Earn yer keep, boys!" The marauders howled in delight and threw off their cloaks before surrounding the pair. Mark mentally slapped himself, _How could I not see this one coming?_ Being surrounded naturally meant, of course, there was little hope. Lyn clutched her sword with more intensity, a clear sign to Mark that she was quite intimidated. They would need a miracle.

"Ganging up on a lone woman? For shame, ruffians!" Mark remembered to thank whatever idiot came up with the godly phrase known as "deus ex machina."

There were two blurs and suddenly, two bandits were dead. Kent and Sain were mounted before the bandits in all their cavalier glory. The bandits cowered a bit at the impressive sight of men in armor. Zugu fumed. "Blasted knights, always interfering in other's business…alright men, we do this the hard way!"

The bandits nodded, and they spread out now to surround the four heroes. Mark turned to the knights. "Thanks for the assistance. We're still outnumbered, but not by much."

Lyn, however, remained skeptical. "What are you doing here?" Kent turned to Lyn.

"Milady, we shall tell you later. Right now, we must deal with these cowardly attackers, no?" Lyn nodded in agreement. Kent continued," Then they shall taste my blade!" Sain jumped in on the chivalry.

"No, I shall deal them all a swift and painful death with my lance!" Then he turned to Lyn. "All for you, my little angel." Mark sighed. Lyn looked suddenly regretful to be accepting help.

"No, stay away! This is my fight!" Lyn yelled. Mark rubbed his temples in frustration.

"Hey, I got a better idea!" Mark suddenly snapped his fingers. The other three turned to him. "How's about you guys all shut up, follow my orders, and we all get out of this mess without too many injuries? We discuss the important things later."

The trio of fighters looked at each other and all nodded their approval. "Good, now my basic plan- break through the circle. Aim after one bandit, and once he's dead, we chase the others. Got it?" Again, a round of nods. "Great, because they're attacking us…RIGHT NOW!"

At Mark's signal, the band was alarmed to find the brigands jump to kill, but they did as Mark directed. Sain rammed through with his lance at one bandit. He missed rather badly, but in dodging the lance, the circle was broken, leaving Lyn and her crew on one side and Zugu on the other. Mark took the standoff time to point something out to Sain.

"Perhaps you should use a sword, Sain." Sain looked somewhat put off.

"Well why on Elibe should I wield a sword? A lance looks more gallant- more befitting of a dashing knight, would you not say so?" Mark raised an eyebrow. Then, Sain scratched his head sheepishly. "Well, truth be told, I forgot to buy one, and I'm pretty sure Kent doesn't-"

"Lyn! I asked you to buy two iron swords, right?" he called out.

"Um, yes, but what-"

"I need one right now! Just toss it over here." Lyn shrugged, but did as she was told. Mark handed the blade to Sain. "Don't lose it and we could be the best of friends. Are we clear?"

Sain grinned. "Crystal."

Mark nodded and headed to behind the warriors, where it was much easier to bark out orders. "Okay, this is how it's going to work. Kent and Sain, you guys are going to rush in first. Kill any bandits unlucky enough to come your way."

Lyn looked puzzled. "What about me?" She pointed to herself.

Mark turned to Lyn. "I was just getting to that. You're job is to sneak past the skirmish and take out the leader." As Lyn was about to say something, Mark raised a hand. "Yes, I know, you would expect the stupid bandit to take part in the fighting like everyone else just for laughs. But no, this guy is a LEADER, and leaders give out orders. They don't go in there to sacrifice their lives- that's why they have lackeys."

Sain took a moment to ponder this thought. "So, basically like what you're doing now?"

Mark shrugged. "I guess. Personally, I think I'm just a bit more charming." Sain grinned.

"Point taken."

--

Zugu could not believe his own horrible fortune. It seemed a simple job at first- kill the girl, any of her accomplices, and get paid a hefty sum. However, as things always are for a bandit, there are complications. Blasted Lycian knights…Zugu wondered if he could sneak off right now. The two cavaliers seemed to have little trouble dealing with his men.

As he turned to run…"Stop right there!" Lyn was running at him at full speed with her sword at the ready. Zugu again cursed his luck and brought his axe to block the blow. It caught Lyn a bit by surprise, but she immediately erected herself into a stance. Suddenly, Zugu wondered if this was where his fortunes turned around. _It's just one girl…if I kill her now, I can get away and at least get some of the money…and all the divisions will be for myself…_

Zugu began laughing to himself, causing Lyn to raise an eyebrow. He moved in for the kill, rushing in with his axe ready to bring down bloody death. Lyn jumped out at the last second and proceeded with a slash to the leg, a slash at the neck, and a slice through the chest. Zugu barely blocked the first two strikes, but anticipation of a third attack let Zugu counter the sword blow, sending an impact that sent Lyn to the ground.

She hurried to get on her feet, but Zugu was already upon her. He grinned maliciously as he put the point of the axe to her neck. Kent and Sain had finished dispatching the bandits and turned to watch in horror the position that Lyn was in. Zugu laughed.

"Stupid lil' girl…did ye honestly think ye could take me all by yerself?" Zugu laughed yet again at his own good fortune. Suddenly, Lyn looked up, and for some reason began grinning. Zugu's triumphant smirk soon gave way to confusion.

"Well, no, not by myself. But that is why I'm NOT alone." As Zugu began to ponder the meaning of her words, a voice uttered from behind him, low and menacing.

"Right behind you." Mark stabbed Zugu in the back and the disgruntled bandit cried out in pain.

Zugu brought his axe away from Lyn to behead the little green man. "Why ye damned little sneak, fight like a man!" he roared. Mark shrugged and shook his head.

"No thanks, I'm much too weak for that kind of stuff. Why not fight a woman instead?" Mark pointed to behind Zugu.

Zugu turned around only to catch Lyn bringing her sword down into an arch, slicing through Zugu's shoulder down into his waist. He sputtered out blood and swayed a bit before falling to the ground as Lyn gave him the wide berth to do so. Zugu muttered darkly to himself as a defeated man.

"Damn it all…it was only supposed to be…a single girl." Within seconds, Zugu was no more.

--

"Mark, you've saved my life not once but twice now! I really cannot tank you enough…"Lyn started. Mark shook his head.

"Well, I was pretty sure you'd just get yourself into strange messes as soon as the journey started. I'm basically insurance that wherever you go, at least you get there in one piece." Lyn pouted and Mark could not help but laugh at her little display. And, of course, it did not take very long for Lyn to laugh too.

That was, until a cough broke their merriment. "Pardon us, but we're still here," Sain brought up. Lyn suddenly remembered.

"Ah, that's right…we need an explanation from the two of you. Why did you follow us?"

Kent looked hesitantly at Mark before turning to Lyn. "Actually, me and Sain were wondering if we could have a word with you in private…" Lyn looked befuddled and then somewhat offended.

"Mark is my trusted friend…whatever you want to tell me, he has to hear this too!" Lyn was firm in her decision. Kent again hesitated and looked to Mark again, who shrugged and told Kent to follow along with his story. Kent coughed.

"Very well…me and Sain ventured forth from Caelin, Lycia, to search for someone." Lent waited as Mark pondered it for a second.

"Lycia…isn't that country southwest, just beyond the mountains?" Kent nodded to Mark's question.

Kent continued," We came as messengers to Lady Madelyn, who eloped with a Sacaen nomad some 19 years ago." Lyn suddenly started at the name.

"Madelyn?" Mark was now quite interested in the subject at hand.

Kent elaborated," The only daughter of our lord, the marquess of Caelin. He was quite heartbroken to find that his daughter left himself. He eventually declared that he had no daughter to speak of."

Sain picked it up. "That was, of course, until Madelyn sent us a letter this year, mentioning that she, her husband, and their daughter were living quite happily on the Sacaen plains. Lord Hausen actually cried of happiness. Not only had he reconnected with his beloved daughter, but he now had a wonderful grandchild of some 18 years!"

Kent nodded. "I had never seen the marquess so happy…how cheerful he looked when he announced that he was a grandfather!" Sain continued off.

"Lyndis, I believe the granddaughter was named." Lyn also pondered the name quite a bit. Mark was starting to put the pieces back together.

"Lyndis?" Lyn let the name roll off her tongue. Sain nodded.

"Yes, it was also the name of the marquess's late wife, who passed away at an early age. As you can imagine, this really touched our dear lord. His only wish became to see his daughter's family, if only once. And that-" he motioned to both himself and Kent," –is why we're here."

Kent, however, sighed. "However, we learned that Lady Madelyn has already died, only a short time after she sent the message. We only just found out it Bulgar"

But Sain smiled. "But there was still hope! Apparently, Madelyn's daughter yet lives."

Kent nodded. "We heard she was living all alone on the plains. I…realized it was you when we met in Bulgar. You are the lady Lyndis." Mark smacked his face. Lyn, Lyndis, how the hell did he not see the connection? The others took no notice. Lyn hesitated a bit.

"Why would you think that…" Lyn's voice trailed off. Kent answered.

"Your resemblance to your deceased mother is uncanny…even remarkable."

Lyn gasped. "You knew my mother?" she asked excitedly. Kent shook his head.

"Not personally as I never directly met her…but I've seen her portraits in the hallways of castle Caelin." Kent watched Lyn as she looked down, obviously thinking about what she heard.

"…To the rest of the tribe, I was Lyn," she began. "But, when it was just us three-me, my mother, and my father…I was suddenly Lyndis." She paused. "For many days and many nights, I was all alone…and yet now, I have a grandfather! Lyndis…I'd never thought I'd hear that name again."

A silence ensued between the four. Suddenly, Lyn jolted at a memory. "Wait! That bandit- he called me Lyndis too!"

Kent appeared shocked. "What?! But how could he have-"

Sain appeared to have a ready answer. "Lord Lundgren," he said with apparent distasted in his mouth. Lyn was apparently as confused as Mark was. Actually, nobody could be more confused than Mark- in the blink of an eye, Lyn transformed from lonely Sacaen nomad to the daughter of a rich and powerful marquess of Caelin.

Lyn asked," Lundgren? Who's that?"

Kent turned to Lyn. "The marquess's younger brother. Since Lady Madelyn was assumed to have disappeared forever, Lundgren is the next in line for the throne."

Sain nodded. "Quite frankly, milady, your existence is one giant obstacle to your granduncle's ambitions." Lyn was bit put off.

"But that's- I have no interest in inheriting any such title!" Sain shook his head.

"Lundgren is not the sort of man to believe that…the threats to your life will inevitably persist." Lyn was rather disgruntled.

"What should I do?"

Kent responded," Accompany us to Caelin. The journey will be dangerous, but less so than be hounded by Lundgren's henchmen for the rest of your life." Lyn sighed.

"I guess I have little choice in the matter. I'll accompany you." Kent and Sain both nodded and they walked away, perhaps to plot out the proper course to Caelin. Mark and Lyn were left alone.

"Um…" Lyn turned to Mark. "I'm sorry, Mark. This changes everything." Mark raised an eyebrow.

"In what way does this change anything?" Mark questioned.

Lyn shook her head. "The road from here on out will be dangerous. I want to ask…what will you do?" Mark shrugged.

"You tell me."

Lyn pointed to herself. "You want me to decide?"

Mark nodded. "I asked you a question. 'In what way does this change anything?' As far as I'm concerned, I am still under you employ- the only difference is that we now have a set destination in mind. So, you tell me- what would you like me to do?"

Lyn fidgeted a bit with the question. "Well…your companionship would do much to ease the journey, and your plans might help us in the fu-"

Mark clapped his hands. "There you have it. I'm sticking with you through thin or thick. Just don't regret it later, you hear?" Lyn smiled a bit at her friend's usual entertaining banter. Mark continued," Now then, I may as well help those two hapless knights find the least bumpy path we can possibly get. Something tells me we're going to need it."

And so, Mark walked off to hail to the two cavaliers. Lyn looked after his receding figure and smiled. "Thank you," she whispered under her breath.

--

_So yeah, the second chapter._

_If you actually bothered to read this, please review! I know you guys might not have much to say, but anything helps. Criticism helps in the construction of the story, minor tidbits on errors I made could help make the chapters more bearable (I hope I don't make too much myself), and minor encouragements always helps a writer._

_Though, I guess I can continue on sheer willpower. It's just going to be a bit harder. I know, I'm an attention whore. But, what can ya do?_

_Thanks for reading, and I'll see if I can write again (unless I get reviews saying my story sucks)._


	3. Behold, Caladbolg!

_And so, a new chapter! Sorry to say, but now that school's started back up again, don't expect clean, sweet, and fast updates. Of course, that is, if you care at all about that._

_But, by some work of Divine Providence, I actually acquired new reviews. Attention-whoring really works!_

_So:_

_Rylond: Thanks, I hope I can keep up to expectations!_

_Bob Schwartz: I'm glad you like sarcasm as much as I do. And you might see/read/hear more of the voice later. And, I'm glad you noticed some grammar errors, and I'll try to be a little more careful writing my next chapters. Sad to say, but this is the curse of writing a huge block of text- proofreading becomes a HELLISH pain. So, I can try, and do tell me when I've made mistakes, but I can't guarantee that'll I'll fix them. Ah, to be human is so hard!_

_And so, without further ado, the third chapter in this strange creation I've concocted!_

--

"Why the bloody hell did I even agree to this?" Mark muttered under his breath bitterly, rubbing his sore temple where he had been hit. Lyn had apparently decided, after having received help from Mark (now famous among the small band for his physical inferiority), that she most certainly needed to be stronger, especially if she wanted to survive Lundgren and see her dear grandfather. However…

"Lyn, you could have asked Kent, you could have asked Sain, and you ask to 'spar' with ME." Mark pointed to himself for emphasis before pointing to his arm muscle, also adding to his point. "I'm pretty sure you've noticed already, but I'm not exactly the right man for the job. Why not spar with someone _who actually knows how to spar_."

Lyn huffed. "Mark, don't you think I realized that when I asked you?" Mark shot her a skeptical look. She shook her head. "Besides, Kent has gone ahead to make sure no ambushes lie in wait for us and Sain is holding the watch. Also, regarding you strength…"

The Sacaen girl raised the wooden stick to face Mark. "…There may be a time when I am unable to protect you. I know you're not all that strong, so I'm hoping this sparring session will help both you and me." If she had intended these words to convince Mark of her cause, if only a little bit, then she had failed in her mission.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but who was it who saved you not once, but twice from the clutches of death?!" Mark defiantly glared upon her. He then sighed and resumed to simply cursing under his breath. "I swear, by all that is hellish in this world, that this is just some form of sick revenge she has decided to implement against me and only me…"

Lyn could not help but sigh to herself. Ever since today had begun, Mark had been cranky. Sometimes, Lyn wondered if Mark could ever have a softer side…

She fingered the ring at her neck and flushed, though it was barely noticeable. Certainly Mark hadn't noticed it. "Hey, if we're done dawdling, let's get the beating over with so I can take a nap." Lyn readied her makeshift sword.

"Ready?" she asked.

Mark's mouth twisted into a dry grin. "Like hell." Despite his previous complaints, Mark lifted the elongated piece of wood in a basic stance, though his arms shook a little after having taking a sound thrashing only moments before. Lyn also raised her sword.

She lunged at him with fierce intensity, her steps like the fall gusts- blades of grass followed along the draft that accompanied her phenomenal speed. Lyn brought her stick up and sliced down for the kill.

Mark barely parried the blow to his head and, slowly and smoothly, slashed up. Lyn jumped back a little to dodge the slow uppercut only to realize that it was a feint. Mark quickly changed the vector of his stick and brought in down with all his strength. And, as on the first day Mark had ever met Lyn, she surprised him with one who was truly had potential for the sword.

In a flash, Lyn had appeared behind Mark, who did not even bother to turn around as he felt the thick piece of wood connect with his shoulder. "ARG!" he howled, clutching his injured ball-stick joint. "Damn it, hit a throbbing wound! Urg…the pain…"

Lyn, seeing that Mark was not going to continue, lowered her sword and observed Mark as her experimented twisting the area around his shoulder. She looked thoughtfully upon his right arm. "It's strange…you have good form-"

Mark gave a dry grin. "Coming from the girl who didn't even know how to properly hold a sword on this first day we met."

Lyn appeared flustered. "I-I told you that I just forgot in the heat of the moment!" She quickly gained her composure, however. "But, for some reason, you just don't have the speed or power with the sword…and when you hold it in that position…it somehow looks awkward." Mark raised an eyebrow.

"How so?"

Lyn brought her thumb and index to her chin into the universally accepted "thinking" position and pondered the question a bit. "I don't know, but it feels as if…as if the sword is not really your weapon…"

Mark sighed at this. "My teacher told me this too, when I decided to take some swordplay…" He lowered his voice into a grumble. "Fat lot of help that did…can't even compare to an 18-year old Sacaen girl. Damn it all…knew I should not even have tried learning from that accursed old man…what a waste of 4,000 gold ounces…"

Lyn pretended not to hear of any of this and mounted the imitation sword on her shoulder. "Shall we continue?"

Mark fell to the floor, sprawled onto the grass. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of fresh, outdoor air. "Most definitively not."

"About time too. I admit it looked like fun, but I think absolutely crushing the poor scoundrel at least ten times over is not a healthy form of 'mild entertainment,'" called a certain young cavalier's face. Both Mark and Lyn turned their heads into the thicket, only to spy Sain, observing his two specimens with an amused eye.

"Sain!" Lyn called. "Has Kent come back with news yet?"

Kent followed quickly behind Sain. "Indeed I have, milady. Judging from what I've heard from the common folk around…I don't think we'll be seeing any battle today where we're headed."

Lyn smiled. "That's good. The place I wanted to visit today is special to my people, so I hoped to avoid trouble. Thank you for the good tidings, Kent."

Kent saluted. "Not at all, milady Lyndis." The red-armored cavalier turned to face Mark. "Shall we prepare a course to Caelin on the way, Sir Ma-"

Mark held up a hand to silence the orange-haired knight. "Kent, there'll be no formalities when addressing me. Lyn here is of royal blood- I'm just a…what's the word again...ah! I am a peasant- just as much a servant here as you, fair Kent. So, refer to me as Mark and only Mark, and I'll have nothing else from you."

Kent looked taken aback. "But, my lor-"

"Kent, Mark, Sain, we are not servants of any kind here. Kent, just think of us as companions on this journey of ours-as much of companions to you as Sain is." Lyn smiled a bit at the dutiful cavalier to show her cordiality. "So, refer to me as Lyn and Mark as Mark. I am not Lady Lyndis, milady Lyndis, not milady, just Lyn."

Mark chuckled at this thought as he stood up. "Yes, I'm much too poor to even be considered a gem and dear Lyn here needs some refinement before she can be a diamond." At this, Lyn smacked Mark upside the head, which only served to elicit further laughter from the green-cloaked strategist.

Kent sighed at the antics of his companions, but quickly composed himself. "Very well. Now then, Si- I mean, Mark. We should begin plotting a proper course to Caelin."

Mark nodded. "We shall, Mr. Kent."

In wake of the whole conversation, suddenly Sain interjected into the fray. "Hey, what about me? I suppose Kent here is the only knight worthy of my fair lady's attention?"

Lyn's grin twitched a bit. "Well, maybe that is because Kent here is the only one who actually needs to tone down his courtesy. For a boor as yourself, there is no lower for you as far as manners are concerned."

Sain threw his hand up into an exaggerated "distressed" position. "Ah, oh beauteous one, thou art too cruel! Too cruel! But, I suppose a rose must have its thorns…" Upon seeing Lyn's obvious frustration, Sain decided to forgo further flirtations, if only to spare his own life. He turned to Mark.

Mark shrugged. "Hey, what can I say? I could get used to being called 'Master.'" However, as per the norm, he lowered his voice in undertone. "Of course, the title would be much more endearing on a woman's lips."

Lyn immediately turned on Mark, her tight grip on the piece of the wood suggesting another, _intense_ sparring session if Mark even thought about displeasing the Lorca girl again. "Would care to tell me what you just said?" Lyn raised the stick threateningly.

Mark shook his head and looked away, muttering incoherent babblings like," No, nothing…nothing at all, no…'course not...nope, as innocent as innocent can be."

As Lyn let the subject drop, Kent once again emerged from out of the trees. "What are you still going here? We have no time for dawdling. Come, we must be off!" And the other three nodded in acknowledgment before packing anything that needed to be packed.

"Another eventful morning as usual…" Mark grumbled to himself. He twisted his arm in the place where Lyn had smote him. _Still hurts like the devil…_

--

There was great shrine, a church of sorts, that towered over the small collection of houses around it. Its grand interior suggested a profound respect for whatever lay within, its white halls indicated a deep care for the shrine and what it held, and yet its crumbling stones indicated an age too far back to be counted.

Its hallowed walls held a divine object- not quite as revered as the legendary weapons of the Eight Generals, but truly a gift from the heavens. And yet, it lay there, timelessly waiting for a master that might never have come. The old Reverend Jonathan sighed, thinking about how sad it would be, if the Mani Katti would be condemned to sit in the lonely chapel, never seeing the world outside.

People came, people went. Many Sacaens revered the holy blade and prayed to it in the hopes for a good journey ahead and battles, if fought, that ended in only victory. And yet, the sword remained. Mani Katti, it seems, would most likely sit here for decades, even centuries to come.

His quiet reverie was interrupted by a loud bang. The old reverend lifted his weary, wrinkled face, and saw the doors fly open. A young man with a cocky grin on his face entered into the shrine, his hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. Three other men followed closely by, each with an axe strapped by the waist.

The old man frowned as they approached the altar. "Ruffians! How dare you desecrate this holy place! If you are not here to pray or to repent, then leave at once!"

The young man broke out into howls of laughter. As he seemed to content himself with poking fun at the old man for no reason whatsoever, he invited his cronies to join him in the strange ritual. A few forced chuckles were heard among the three somewhat put-off henchmen.

The young man finished his laughter and continued to grin that arrogant little sneer. "Sorry old man, but I'm not here for Sunday service. However..." The man now was at the altar, observing the shining sword with a keen eye. "…I don't think you'll mind too much if I just take this here sword with me, eh old man?"

Reverend Jonathan began sputtering, so full of rage and indignity was he. "Wha- you heathen! The Mani Katti is the holy sword of this sacred place- scum like you will only dirty this sacred spot!" At this, the reverend moved in front of the sword (in a pretty foolish looking defensive position, as the reverend later admitted).

The swordsman scoffed. "What good is a sword if no one uses it?" At this comment, the reverend's expression darkened, but only a little. The swordsman continued," The Mani Katti…I hear it's a sword with no equal. Perfect! That means it is the only blade worthy of me, Glass, the greatest swordsman in all of Elibe!"

And, disregarding the old man's protests, the cocky Glass shoved the priest off the altar and gazed the sword over again with an approving look before grabbing at the hilt of the sacred blade.

A few seconds of silence passed. One of the axe-wielding minions grew impatient. "Hey boss, what's the hold-up? Just take the damn sword and let's go!"

Glass muttered under his breath. "It's stuck…"

"What? I can't hear you boss, speak up!"

"THE DAMN SWORD IS STUCK, I CAN'T GET IT OUT!" Glass barked. The three hapless minions were puzzled, but the old priest wore a knowing look on his face and grinned.

"The spirits within Mani Katti have found you wanting of certain qualities…they have rejected you." The old man chuckled at the thought that this cheeky little punk was foiled in his childish attempts.

But, Glass proved a bit more tenacious than most. "Stupid old man, away with thee!" And with that, the frustrated Glass hauled the reverend by the collar and threw him into the back chamber before turning to his henchmen.

"You guys, go watch the front. I'll be just…wrenching this blasted sword out of its scabbard…" Glass grunted as he resumed trying to pull the rooted blade from its resting place. The minions gave each other glances, shrugged, and moved to watch for any curious townsfolk who wanted to know what was happening in the shrine. After all, witnesses were never any good for aspiring blackhearts.

As the three bandits trudged back to the entrance, Glass tried to tug the Mani Katti out of its altar for the fifth time before falling to the ground in utter defeat. He growled in frustration and brought his sword down and began smashing his own broadsword against the altar.

"Accursed spirits, I care not for thee! If I cannot pull the sword out, I'll just reduce this altar to rubble and take the sword by force!"

--

"So, tell me again where we're going?" Mark questioned his fellow travelers.

Lyn beamed at a chance to explain. "We are heading to the shrine of the Mani Katti, which is just east from here. Many travelers from Sacae go to pray for a safe journey."

"Oh! How quaint!" Sain jumped into the conversation.

Kent nodded approvingly. "Indeed. Of all religious sects on Elibe, the church of Saint Elimine holds the most followers. It is nice to see here, at least, that ancient customs are still preserved."

Mark indeed could see a chapel come into view, surrounded by a few small houses and maybe a shop or two. As they approached the humble little area, Mark got a better idea about by how much the church outsized its neighboring houses. "Tell me again, what is Mani Katti?" Mark suddenly brought up.

Lyn faced Mark with a quizzical look. "You did not know? The Mani Katti is the holy sword of Sacae, said to be only below the legendary weapons of the Eight Generals."

"Ah, I see." Mark could only say that he was a bit disappointed in the direction Sacaens had gone, if only in terms of their beliefs. Sure, they were polite, they generally produced strong members of society, and they had a strict moral code, but come on! They worshipped a _sword_ for heaven's sake! _Though_, Mark supposed, _I can't really say the church of Saint Elimine is much better. They worship a corpse._

He quickly erased such blasphemous thoughts from his head. Mark hoped he had not unconsciously spouted anything offensive and also hoped that, if some certain celestial forces were watching him from above, that they did not notice obvious insults to their existences.

Suddenly, an old woman ran up to them, obviously in a fright. "Are you travelers seeking to pray at the altar?" she huffed out.

Lyn looked concerned. "Yes? What of it?"

At this, the old woman began crying out. "It's terrible! A gang of ruffians has taken the shrine- they've taken the priest hostage and they are trying to steal the Mani Katti!" Lyn looked as if she were in a state of complete shock. Kent and Sain were a bit startled. Mark was too busy thinking, _It's just a goddam sword, fer crying out loud!_

But, as Mark's inner dialogue kept rambling on about how sorry the state of the world was when people actually place their faiths in a piece of metal, Lyn looked to her knights and Mark had to appear as if he was attentive and ready. "We must stop these people!"

_Somehow, it always comes down to violence_, Mark sighed to himself. "Alright, gather 'round, we're gonna do this by the book."

The tactician turned to the green-armored cavalier. "Sain, you ride quickly to the church entrance and report back. If there's a group, there's definitely going to be a guard, so remember to give me numbers."

Sain nodded with a cheeky grin. "Will do, Sir Mark!"

Mark returned the nod before turning to Kent and Lyn. "Meanwhile, you two will be checking out those two houses-" he pointed out said two humble abodes "-and gathering any information we can use to our advantage. I'll be checking out that shop over there." Mark pointed to the blacksmith.

Lyn shook her head. "We're wasting time with this! Why can we not just go through the front and take the bandits by storm? Time is of the essence, so we should-"

"Rush in their like a pack of fools and essentially hand our lives over to a bunch of muscle-headed dunces on a silver platter?" Mark raised an eyebrow and Lyn quickly shut her mouth.

"Look, precautions are precautions, and any chance to surprise the enemy will mean less casualties. Now sortie, we got work to do."

--

"Ah, welcome to my fine wares! Care to take a look around?" the blacksmith motioned towards his rather fine display of weaponry of all sorts. Mark shook his head.

"No thanks, good sir. Pardon me, but have you heard the shrine of the Mani Katti's being attacked?" The response Mark got was a bit stronger than expected.

"WHAT?! Some gang of marauders is trying to take the blessed sword?! Bastards!" The shop owner looked indignant.

_It's a bloody sword. It's a piece of blasted metal- No. Control yourself. Lyn wants to save sword, you help her save sword._ Mark coughed. "Yes, and I was wondering if you could tell me anything that would help us with this situation. Perhaps…something related to the church itself?"

At this, the blacksmith lowered his head in thought and scratched at his hair. "Hmm…I'm not quite sure but…oh! I remember!" He turned around began fumbling with some of his possessions before grabbing a rolled-up parchment and unfurling it at the counter. It turned out to be a scheme of the Mani Katti shrine. When Mark gave a questioning glance to the blacksmith, he waved his hand.

"I was a bit o' a carpenter back in the day. I helped out with the shrine, you see?" the blacksmith puffed out his chest in pride of his work. Mark raised an eyebrow. He could not imagine anything being more sad than erecting one of the grandest temples ever witnessed in beholden worship of a piece of forged metal. Again, for the purposes of courtesy and gaining someone's favor, Mark held his silence. The blacksmith continued," Well, ye see, the wall 'round the northern corner's seen some better times, ye hear? The frame's quite busted on that end. I painted over it, so it wouldn't stick out or alarm anybody, but I was gonna fix it tomorrow. Now then, if ye look-"

"Stop," Mark smiled. "That'll be enough. I think I know what to do."

The blacksmith was confused. "Are ye sure? I could explain a bit more, and maybe it'll help a bit." Mark shook his head.

"I most certainly have all the info I need from you, and I must thank you. Though, if I needed any more help…" Mark pointed to an object near the side of the room. "May I borrow that?"

--

"So, any useful information at all?" Mark decided to ask, though he had now a fairly good idea about how to plan the battle out. Still, it was always good to have insurance in case something goes awry…

Kent and Lyn shook their heads. "The young woman I was completely confused about what was going on. When I explained the matters to her, she was horrified, but did little else." Lyn answered.

Kent nodded. "That was essentially the same response I had from the man from that house yonder." Mark sighed. People care a bit too much about their swords, but still don't bother to help.

"Well then, Sain. I suspect you have some useful information to spill, no?" Mark turned to the grinning cavalier.

"Why, of course! As it turns out, this little heist is only a four-man show- and three of the guys are standing right outside! Take them out, and there's just one little guy trying to take the blade by force…though I hear the guy inside's not too shabby with a sword."

Mark was actually a bit shocked. "You found out all of this, by yourself? How?"

Sain grinned a little wider. "Those buffoons are quite the loudmouths. I merely had to listen in for minutes and they spill the whole deal." Mark was taken aback and just a bit miffed. How on earth could he concoct brilliant strategies if the enemy was too weak to even bother?

But, he quickly dispelled such thoughts. An easy fight is a blessing, and Mark hoped that karma, in its strange nature, would not use those words to bite him back in the arse some random time later. One could only hope.

"Alright, I'll keep the plan simple. Gather 'round, gather your wits, and lend your ears." Mark motioned to the group. "Kent, Sain, you two deal with the bandits out in the front. We need you to keep the bandits occupied, but if you manage to dispose of them quickly enough, then immediately go after the swordsman inside. Sain, you may actually get a chance to use your blasted lance!"

Sain, being the ever-cheerful knight, laughed. "About time too!"

Kent nodded his head. "We shall do our best. Let these ruffians taste steel!"

As Kent and Sain mounted off and rode to their duty, Mark turned to Lyn. "Now, we go by the side of the church." Lyn looked a bit puzzled.

"I wasn't aware there was a side entrance."

At this, Mark's mouth twisted into a very mischievous grin, which could only mean that Mark had a very interesting ace up his sleeve. "There isn't." At Lyn's even now more perplexed expression, Mark laughed.

"We're going to make an entrance."

At this, he hefted a rather heavy looking object over his shoulder, straining a bit to hold the weight up. Lyn was left speechless.

"Mark...what are you planning to do with THAT?"

--

"Alright you bozos, Boss is really taking too long trying to take a frickin' sword. I'm going in there to help the poor bastard. You guys stand here and keep the guard," said Generic Lackey #1.

Generic Lackeys #'s 2 and 3 nodded. "Will do," said Generic Lackey #2. Generic Lackey #1 then proceeded to enter the chapel to help a pathetic little Glass try to pull a small 10-pound katana from small slab of rock. As Generic Lackey #1 continued to mumble about how bosses "ain't what they used to be," Generic Lackeys #'s 2 and 3 turned their attention to the front to do boring guard duty.

Two figures in the far distance were rapidly closing the distance on them.

Generic Lackey #2 contented himself with chewing on an apple he had found not too long ago. A loud smacking of lips and gnashing of teeth ensued as the bandit, having thrown common courtesy out of the way a long time ago, gorged on the poor piece of fruit in a disgusting manner that would drive any normal man mad. But, Generic Lackey #3 would have done the same thing, so he had no right to complain.

The two figures in the far distance already crossed at least half-way of the distance.

A few bites here, a loud chew there, and then Generic Lackey #2 would rinse and repeat. Slobber fell all over the violated plant reproduction organ. Generic Lackey #3 continued to barely attention to what was in front of him, so distracting was the sound of that horrible gnawing. Generic Lackey #2 just really liked how sweet the apple was. Oh wait, a seed. Generic Lackey #2 spit it out, complete with the dripping saliva.

The two figures in the far distance were not quite so far anymore.

Generic Lackey #2 chewed and chewed on the last bits of his apple and Generic Lackey #3 now looked ahead and wondered where those two people in the front had come from.

Sain quickly ran through Generic Lackey #2 with his lance and drove the bandit into the chapel door. It took about a full five seconds for Generic Lackey #3 to register what just happened…

"…Hey wait a-"

…Before he was decapitated by a swift stroke of Kent's trusted iron sword.

--

"Hey Boss, I'm here to help yer pansy ass get that sword." Generic Lackey #1 called out. He was responded by a nervous, jittery laughter.

Glass was at the altar, holding the sheathed Mani Katti in his hands as if it were his whole life. He twitched every now and then and gazed over the sword, taking it in all its glory.

"Heh heh…" Glass let out a small murmur. Generic Lackey #1 was just a bit freaked out by the disturbing exhibition.

"Um, Boss?"

"Yes…it's mine. All mine…belongs to no one else…I will be the greatest…heh heh," Glass continued with his rather creepy dialogue. Now, Generic Lackey #1 was officially freaked out by the obsessive fancy his boss had taken to his new sword and so decided that his best option was to leave there and wait until, hopefully, Glass stopped being such a sword-loving maniac. As he starting sneaking for the door and as Glass continued on with his repulsive banter, a large *BANG* interrupted both of them.

When the dust settled, a lone green-haired Sacaen girl, garbed in the traditional robes of a Lorca plainswoman, jumped through the gaping hole in the wall and immediately turned her iron sword to face Glass. "Fiend! You shall not take the Mani Katti!"

Generic Lackey #1 sighed to himself. _Great, ANOTHER person with the whole "the-sword-is-holier-than-thou-art"_ _attitude_._ Just when I thought one was bad enough…_

Glass began laughing, reverting back to the good ol' cocky bastard Generic Lackey #1 knew and despised, but liked certainly more than the creepy obsessive Glass. "Ha, you think you can take the Mani Katti away from me? Foolish! I am Glass, the greatest swordsman in all of Elibe! Watch, as you shall be the first life I take away with this sword!"

And thus, the young swordsman from Elimine-knows-where raised the Mani Katti in its sheath to the sky, as if asking the gods for appraisal, before wrapping his fingers around the handle. Glass tugged to unsheathe the holy sword.

…

Silence passed for a few minutes. Lyn and Generic Lackey #1 were obviously confused at the lack of action in front of them. Glass looked quite perplexed too. So, he tugged on the sword handle again. The Mani Katti remained stubbornly in its sheath.

Glass could just hear the chorus of divine laughter in his head. A vein popped in the poor swordsman's temples. He threw the Mani Katti to the ground.

"Blasted sword, it has humiliated me for far too long! Enough!" Glass turned to the young Sacaen plainswoman. "I will kill you, with, or without that accursed blade!"

Lyn readied her sword. "Just try."

And so, Glass lunged with his broadsword and when his blade met the tempered metals of Lyn's iron sword, the duel began- a dance to the death between two users of the sword. Generic Lackey #1 was stunned by the events that had just unfolded in front of him. But then, he realized that his boss was in trouble.

Generic Lackey #1 never really liked his boss, Glass. But, Glass was a bit more pleasurable as far as company goes compared to other such "leaders" among bandits (at least he didn't smell funny), so Generic Lackey #1 decided that it would be in his best interest to help out by sneaking in maybe one or two shots with his axe. _Shame it has to be a little girl_, he thought, and then said," But, I gotta help mah boss."

Someone tapped his shoulder. "Pardon me, but if you want get to Lyn, you'll have to get through someone else first." Generic Lackey #1 quickly turned around to face the mysterious assailant, but couldn't even catch the man's looks before he got slammed in the head by a heavy, blunt force. He was dead within seconds.

Mark looked with approval at the bandit's completely caved in face. He wondered to himself, _If the sword isn't the weapon for me, maybe this sledgehammer here is! Now, if only it wasn't so blasted heavy…_

With a sigh, he let the heavy bludgeon fall to the floor and leaned on the pillar, completely aware that swinging a bloody mallet in the middle of duel would probably not go so well for either himself or Lyn.

The church doors opened with a bang. Kent and Sain rode in with their trusty steeds and looked quite gallant in doing so. "We are here to-" Kent began.

"You're a bit late," Mark gave as a dry answer.

Sain's "courageous" face fell a little. "What d'ya mean by that?"

Mark shrugged. "Lyn's already got the duel in the bag. Best not disturb her."

Indeed, Lyn was outmaneuvering Glass in swordplay, easily dodging the awkward and slow broadsword the arrogant swordsman troubled to wield. With a slash here and a stroke there, Glass already had quite a few wounds on him, shallow as they were. However, he refused to give up.

"Tenacious little girl…" he growled. As he swung his sword up, he kicked Lyn in the stomach and sent the Sacaen girl flying off the altar. Kent and Sain were about to rush in and help her when Mark stopped them with a wave of his hand.

"Don't." He said. "She'd never forgive you."

Glass rushed at Lyn with all his might brining his broadsword down to bear, but Lyn rolled out of the way and jumped back to her feat. She sheathed her sword and then ran at Glass, her hand resting firmly on the sword's handle.

The fight ended in an instant. Kent and Sain could not even tell when Lyn had drawn her sword. But, Glass was mortally wounded as a deep gash suddenly mowed its way through Glass's skin and flesh. The prideful swordsman, now severely beaten, fell to his knees. "Damn it…why?...I am…supposed to be…the greatest…"

Glass fell to the marble floor as Lyn cleaned her blade of any blood before sheathing it. There was a small clapping accompanying her victory.

"Bravo Lyn, bravo." Mark grinned as he continued with his one-man applause. "Beautiful as always, my dear Lyndis."

Lyn frowned at the tactician, but only half-heartedly before letting her mouth return the smile before giving a curtsy to play along with the whole act. In the end, the two companions ended up laughing, soon accompanied by roaring laughter from Sain and light chuckles from Kent.

But, Lyn remembered what she came here to do. She immediately went for the door to the backroom and unlocked it, letting the poor old reverend out. "Are you alright, sir?"

Old Jonathan nodded. "Yes. Thank you, child. You have my gratitude." He looked around the chapel and saw the dead bodies of Glass and Generic Lackey #1 along with the smashed wall of the chapel. The reverend sighed. "I guess this was to be expected, with all the noise I heard, but it's still quite a mess for one as old as me to clean…"

Lyn looked apologetic. "I'm sorry sir, but I could not let them take the Mani Katti. Forgive me if I caused you any trouble." She bowed.

The old reverend chuckled a bit. "No, if the Mani Katti is safe, then all is well, child. I assume you came here to pray to the sacred blade." When Lyn nodded, the old reverend continued," Then I allow you to lay hands upon the Mani Katti. Touch the blade's patterns and pray for a safe journey.

Lyn was positively ecstatic. "Th-Thank you, sir!"

Mark rolled his eyes at the whole display. _We crush three bandits and a wannabe swordsman, save the holy sword, and rescue the priest, and look, she gets to TOUCH the sword. It is just a SWORD. What's next, the Holy Order of the Most Sharp Blade of Hrunting?_ Again, Mark kept his thoughts to himself, if only for courtesy sake.

As Lyn touched the sword, however, a sudden wave resonated throughout the whole room, sourcing from the Mani Katti. Mark wondered if he was the only one who felt that and turned to Kent and Sain. The two knights looked completely baffled. Lyn recoiled her hands from the Mani Katti, and the reverend was completely shocked.

"Child…" the old man started. "W-…would you mind touching the sword again?" Lyn hesitated a bit, but brought her hands out to hold the sheathed sword. An ever stronger resonance wave emanated throughout the shrine. The reverend fell to the ground.

"By Saint Elimine herself…I never would have dreamed I'd live to see the day…" the old reverend gasped. "The day that the Mani Katti…would find its true owner."

Lyn was completely taken aback. "Me? But, it can't be! I'm not…"

The old reverend looked on the verge of tears, though his voice echoed a sort of hearty laughter. "Child, if you need more proof, just try to unsheathe the sword!"

And so, Lyn did as the priest said. The blade was a sparkling white and an ethereal glow seemed to emanate from the shining sword. Mark and Sain were completely agape in their expressions and Kent looked quite surprised at what had occurred right in front of him.

The old reverend kept chuckling to himself. "Never thought I'd see the day…never, in my wildest dreams…"

Lyn sheathed the Mani Katti and turned to the aging Jonathan. "Are sure this is okay sir? It is a holy blade, and-"

The reverend shook his head. "No…if there was only one thing that little punk was right about, it's that a sword is not complete if it is not used. Please, take the Mani Katti with you and shape a history for both the Mani Katti and for yourself- as the blade and the wielder of the blade!

Lyn bowed lower than she ever had in her whole life. "Y-yes, sir!"

--

"So, this is the Mani Katti…a blade with no equal!" Sain exclaimed upon seeing the sword Lyn now held in her hands with wonder.

"This all happening so fast…" Lyn continued to gape at the sheathed Mani Katti. "To suddenly find that my grandfather is the marquess of Caelin and now…I have, perhaps, the most famous sword in all of Sacae in my hands right now…"

Kent mulled her words over a bit. "It is not so strange. In fact, many legends tell similar tales of powerful weapons seeking out their proper owners."

Mark shrugged at it all. "Whatever the case, and I can't believe I'm going to say it, but that sword is most certainly destined for you, Lyn." As Kent and Sain nodded in approval, Lyn could only wave it all away in a fluster.

"I…I am nothing special!"

Sain sighed a bit," Think of it this way- some weapons feel more comfortable in your hand, right? Well, the Mani Katti should feel especially comfortable in your hands." He gave Lyn a concerned look. "Does this make it easier for you to accept?"

Kent nodded. "Sain is right. I do not think either Sain or I could use that sword at all."

Lyn looked down at the Mani Katti, truly a blade with no equal in the world. A peerless blade…for a peerless warrior.

"Look at it Mark…" she offered to the green-cloaked strategist "This is the Mani Katti…this is my sword…" Lyn raised the sword up. "I must care for it well."

Lyn continued to be mystified and awed at having acquired a weapon second in renown in Sacae only to Miugre, the divine weapon of Hanon, of the Eight Generals. Mark could only entertain but one thought throughout the whole ordeal.

_ It's just one…blasted…sword._

--

"What?! The blasted girl is still alive?!" the furious elderly man dressed in the fine fabrics of a lord barked. The young soldier cowered under the roaring anger of cold nobility.

"Uh…yes, Lord Lundgren, that is what we heard." With that, Lord Lundgren let out a snarl before kicking down a small footstool. The soldier was rather hesitant to continue. "Uh, milord, your orders? Kent and Sain are traveling with her as we speak. If we let them be…"

Lord Lundgren's hellish tantrum subsided and gave way to a rather mocking sneer. "Bah! I've heard northern Bern is infested with bandits." He looked out the window to gaze upon the kingdom that would no doubt be his. "She's just a girl…she'll not survive the journey here. I'm more concerned about my older brother."

The aging lord turned to the cowering servant. "His life must be ended quickly. The poison…there must be no blunders."

The young soldier nodded. "Yes, m'lord…he continues to drink it and suspects nothing." The young man gulped at the thought. "The marquess's death, due no doubt to 'sudden illness' …is not far off."

Lundgren chuckled. "Heh heh…soon. Oh so soon…and Caelin will be mine!"

The ambitious little brother cackled maniacally, leaving the poor soldier to wonder what kind of sticky mess he had gotten himself into.

--

_If actually managed to work your way down here, then thanks for reading!_

_Somehow, I get the feeling that the quality of my story-telling is going down...I hope it'll get better as I get more into Fire Emblem and as I introduce more of the other characters._

_Anyway, if you actually read through the whole chapter, then I ask you to please review!_

_I know you're probably tired of hearing that from a nobody author, but hey, a guy wants to know what others think about his writing, and this guy also wants to know what he can do to improve._

_But, again, thanks for reading, and I hope I can squeeze in some time and attention span to write!_

_Oh, and if anyone catches the small reference to a scene from one of my favorite movies, I'll give them a cookie. Okay, no not really, but it'll be as good as a cookie. Okay, maybe not, but at least you'll have my respect (if that was actually worth anything)._

_Auf Wiedersehen!_


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